


The Sculptor of Memories

by LadyKadilion



Series: The Time Travelers [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Character Study, Family, Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, Missing Scene, Spoilers, Translation, series 4-7
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKadilion/pseuds/LadyKadilion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who dictates when a life ends? Before River Song existed the rebel Mels Zucker, and before that was Melody Pond ... From what had before are only memories, songs of an ancient race in the depths of an enchanted forest. Pieces of stories about a girl who was born, raised and died became legend... and a woman who knows every one of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sculptor of Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of ['La Escultora de Memorias'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/543088) by [LadyKadilion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKadilion/pseuds/LadyKadilion). 



> We know very little about the life of Melody Pond before turning into River Song, in addition to their participation in the events of "The Impossible Astronaut" and " Day of the Moon" as a little girl fleeing the Silence and as the little daughter baby Amy Pond and Rory Williams in " A good man goes to war" until conditioning and aging with their parents as Mels in "Let's kill Hitler", even a Detective and a Professor of Archaeology in "The Angels take Manhattan". Besides all of this, we know nothing and we can only make guesses and fanfictions about her life before, between and after on the above facts, that, until Moffat trolling us with a story even more amazing and crazy in the coming seasons.
> 
> This Fanfiction is not going to deal only with River 'Melody' Song, I'm adding to the story of Melody a character of my own creation and ownership, but other than that, every character of Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and Steven Moffat until I have enough money to say otherwise. Xhemanbraxa Kadilion and other characters outside the DW universe belong to me.
> 
> Not a fanfiction AU (well, a bit). The events of the fanfic do not alter the original plot of the series.
> 
> I do not know how many chapters have this story, as it's still in development.
> 
> A kiss to all and hope you enjoy.
> 
> PS: to write this story, I heard the whole album "Illusions" by Thomas Bergersen and the album "Origins" by Audiomachine, because I found in their music very much in keeping the environment I wanted to get into this story.

**Prologue**

She felt a painful and horrible sensation in the chest, some inexplicable desire to mourn.

Manhattan was left behind months ago for her, and had long periods of depression, tears shed in the solitude of a quiet room in the confines of the TARDIS, or the comforting shelter of the arms of her husband, who, very possibly, more suffered the loss of her parents.

Maybe that was what had left her in that state, she said to herself, scribbling on her notebook resting on his lap notes and archaeological data she had collected in her last excavation. That, and also the retention she held on her own emotions, trying to be strong for the Doctor.

She was in her office at the Luna University, sitting on a leather armchair and lit only by the dim light of a night lamp.

That work was exhausted her, eaten something within her that is kept hidden long time. He had been so focused on eradicating the wound in the hearts of the Doctor that she not noticed the crack who had stayed in her own. She had been so careful not to reveal the damage he had caused the tragedy within her, which only made the damage would spread like a cancer. She would be very stupid of her to think she was oblivious to pain, when her husband whenever he turned his back, the crack opened and drowned her for the inside.

When she feel so, just enough to grab her vortex manipulator, put it in her left wrist and end the evening with a drink, sitting in a garden of a small house in Leadworth.

But she could not do that now, he said to herself, while silently crossed out her notes, and unable to contain herself any longer, put down the pen and closed the notebook.

She had lost her parents and his best friends, and the Doctor was so damaged as she.

Maybe ... she was said, as he rubbed the pulse points of her head and came to feel again that sharp pain in the chest. Yes, maybe it's time came to visit someone else.

**000**

The engine of the old red truck stumbled one last time and stood in silence meanwhile the sun, of a bright reddish orange, was hiding in the distant horizon, darkening the gloomy countryside gradually.

The stone road was entirely deserted, with no hint of past or present life, except for the traces of small rodents or animals belonging to that environment almost deserted, and yet, it seems that had not been used in years.

The car door opened with a push and a woman came out. Her silhouette barely visible in the dark and desolate landscape, when down, she held with one hand on the driver's window for a few moments and then probe around the outline of the truck so as not to trip and reach around her few belongings he had left in the back. He slung the backpack precarious, closed the car door and started the last 10 kilometers on foot.

Although her eyesight was falling short by nightfall and lack of a good moon to illuminate the outline of the geography around her, her walk was safe and fast, as who had hurry to get somewhere without losing time. The cool breeze of the night wafted under her denim jacket and her bones, making her shiver slightly. The mysterious and almost nonexistent noises that came from the neighborhood, along with the rhythmic pounding of the weight of the gun that had hung against her thigh, kept alert and alien to fear or numbness produced by autumn temperatures in the darkness that is became increasingly thick and curly.

Despite the care that she had for remain silent, her boots produced a sound uncomfortably higher than normal at that dirt and gravel road, winding through hills and fields of rural farms was leaving behind each step.

The darkness was almost palpable now, compact, thick as oil. In that place there was no light to guide her on the road, and found that it was too dangerous to walk almost blind in a landscape where the slightest bump was a dangerous trap. She stopped for a moment at the edge of the road (or what she thought was the edge of the road) and dug into the bag he had brought as a luggage, finding the small flashlight that usually used in archaeological digs, where tunnels and darkness dominated everything. The flickering of the lantern hurt her eyes, because the light was a cold white and concentrated. To be small was incredibly helpful, but she knew she will turn it off when will reach her destination.

Now with one less obstacle ahead, turned to hang the backpack and returned to the road again, opening her way through the darkness with the light of a small flashlight and the poise that always accompanied her.

**000**

The flashlight was a rubbish, cursed under her breath, she stumbled for the umpteenth time in the rugged terrain. She had already lost the lights of small rural houses and the landscape became more rugged, bumpy, ups, downs and dangerous swamps on both sides of the road, due to the rain in early November.

After traveling about nine miles and have legs and arms completely numb from the cold, she saw (or rather stumbled) a small secondary way out of the road into the darkness of the countryside among the dense thickets wild and twisted trees that crowned the place. The silhouette of these latter disconcerted her for a moment, because she not reminded so high, but now that she thought had been a long time since she had been there last. Brightened towards the entrance, looking for any sign to tell you that this was the right way; in front of the way there is a sign nailed to a pine dwarf, written with red letters visible enough so that a person in five meters can see it:

KEEP OUT

BEWARE OF DOGS

PRIVATE ENCLOSURE

She made his way through the bushes and thorny bushes, for leave the little path cleared almost nonexistent and get into a darkness deeper and more dangerous, that neither white light flashlight could penetrate. Now she had only guided by her memories.

Maybe have been better to do these things by day, but would not risk going back to the truck when the night closed the way. Sharpened her ear when she walked a hundred yards into the winding path through the vegetation that ripped her jeans and hurt her hands, feeling occasionally in front of her some pine or shrub that is interwoven in her way, always feeling low the soles of his boots the unmistakable sound of open ground pebbles. After having gone through what she estimates is a kilometer into the forest of pines and shrubs which nick her clothes and hurt her skin, look a distant point, tiny for the tall grass and trees around, a point of light indicating the end of the road. She smiled slightly and when her hand grasping with some difficulty the branch of an old pine tree bent and instead of the rough texture of the bark is the softness of the fabric of a scarf, she know you have arrived and it's time to turn off the flashlight, but the latter just made because she has the pipes of a shotgun in the head and she did not want to risk making a wrong move and end up with a bullet in her head.

"Tell me who you are and what you do here" The voice is deep like bronze, with a slight velvety tone, but it is the voice of one accustomed to command and River recognizes that voice.

"Sammuel Roggers?" question her, raising her hands above her head and unable to hide the excitement in her voice, if she could just turn around...

"Who sent you? Did they do it?" The barrel of the gun against her neck with a tapping, make reacting her. Emotions are for another time, she thought, now just had to clear things up and try that old American put the gun down.

"I came on my own Sammy, stop pointed me and look properly" bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the thought of the expression that make the old man when he realize who was pointing. But just heard a low growl and barrel sank deeper into her unprotected neck.

"I do not know who you are and you are armed, you have entered private enclosure and you treat it like a ride and now you come to give orders? Who are you, women? Talk"

"You've answered yourself" the words were a challenge to decipher the enigma that was in front. He felt the pressure loosened the barrel of his neck and the sound of branches around, and as the old man was getting ready to speak.

"What's the code?" He asked, in a tone of voice that betrayed suspicion and disbelief at the same time, as if he could not believe what his mind had processed. River smiled.

"Gamma"

There was a brief silence, in which River felt the barrel of the gun disappeared from her neck, giving her time to turn and stare the green silhouette of the man who had accosted. Had begun to fall a fine drizzle.

_"Melody?"_

**000**

They are about 300 meters of travel, under a rain that was slowly rising and threatens to become a storm. For much as she protested that her could go alone in the darkness of night closed, with an icy downpour piercing the bones, a thick leather jacket rested on his shoulders, and sleeves, longer than her own arms, swaying slightly to every step along the road covered in mud, crossing an area where the weed was so grown that surpassed the height of your body. River could hear in the distance the sound of a stream and the splash of the rain against a body of water. She suspected that the huge field was full of swamps and inaccessible, as always.

"Do you have dogs?" he asked, trying to make small talk after the initial greetings emotional. The silence around are uncomfortable.

The laughter of the old man, even still mild and moderate, was heard above the rain, and relaxing the woman in his beside

"People around here will have some apprehension about the wild dogs, especially if they are livestock, tend to be more territorial than in the city and protect the flock and any animal or person as true beasts. But no, I have not"

They came to a place where the road was divided in two, it was as if something had burned the earth to return it charred black in color, a line of 30 cm thick was crossing from one side to another and got deep into the endless weeds by both directions. Roggers took something out of his pants pocket and handed it to River. She knew him well enough to know it was. Flipped and hung it around his neck. The medallion was suspended over her chest emitting a green light flashing, immediately afterwards , crossing the line charred all over your body feeling a slight tingling like a small electric shock, and returned to take the path to the house ever closer "I suspect she never let me have dogs" Roggers added, when they had arrived.

"Do not you enter with me?" River asked, returning to him the soaked jacket. They were only a few meters from the wooden porch, and Roggers give her a small key, holding it out with a gnarled hand with scarred.

"I have other issues to deal with" he sai , returning to don the leather jacket and River climbed the steps of the porch, taking refuge under the roof "and scare the kids who get into the field for steal apples"

"Did not you say the dog alert them away?"

"They are children" he said "and you of all people know how naughty and often risky they are" added with a wink.

"Yes, but please do not use the shotgun "

The old man laughed and stepped into the road.

River said nothing more as he saw robust and finely blurred silhouette disappear under the thick curtain of water. As he rounded the porch to the front door, he asked to herself who child in their right mind try enter in a storm just for steal apples, and suspected that the old man had not told her the whole truth.

The door opened with a soft creak and River got into the house in the dark. The room was completely silent, only heard the furious onslaught of the rain against the window panes, and the soft crackle of a warm fire in the distant living room fireplace.

The first room we entered was the kitchen, was small and wooden, everything in it was cramped and cluttered. In the middle was a large table with a pretty worn surface, surrounded by chairs of different designs adorned with yellow cushions. From the ceiling hung pots, pans and vases of beer which shone slightly in the dim light of a gas lamp, which River had turned to go.

The woman stood for a moment in the middle of the room, watching everything from the old blue plaid curtains covering the windows of dirty small crystals, to the huge, blackened stone island was connected to the ceiling above the stove. He sat in one of the flimsy wooden chairs and leaned across the table with the lamp, watching the shadows change direction as the light played with the glossy surface of a pot resting on the washing.

She remembered the last time he had been there, was the day she had met the Doctor, the day that had become River Song. And if her eidetic memory not failed her, everything was exactly as it had been when she was gone. That bothered her, but also made her feel strange, as if from the moment she set foot in that house would have wanted everything to remain the same, that all she remembered continue intact, retain some of it with her that time was lost, at least a reflection of what it had been before, but everything had changed.

Something shimmered on the shelf on the kitchen counter. It was filled with jars of jam, garlic braids, ladles soup bowls and other things that River could not identify, but closer appreciated the dull glow of a crystal that had nothing to do with the other things put on the shelf.

It was about fifteen by four inches wide and was leaning against the wall. It could see the face of brunette girl, her eyes were large and of a chocolate color. She could have been more than eleven years old.

It was not the only painting, hanging on the wall had other photographs, some of the same girl, when I was so small I could barely stand on his feet and in others that already showed signs of the woman who was going to be. There were also photos of the corn fields, the old exterior of the cabin, a bright silver-haired woman...

Something made her turn her steps and sit in the chair she had previously abandoned. It was only a picture, she told, why she was uncomfortable? Maybe it was that after so many years would have expected to forget everything about his life on earth, but that did not take away the fact that although the universe explore things would still be there, waiting, and would eventually have to face them.

She was not afraid of her past, was only disappointment. Mels had been selfish, reckless and disrespectful, as well as terribly dangerous to herself and to all those around him. A bomb had once described. She had been carrying a grudge and hatred that rarely had a chance to drive, but it was not against the Doctor, but always attributed all his sufferings to him. He was against the Church, and Silence, but after many years he realized why.

She was not afraid to Mels, or the Silence.

Shivering from the cold that reigned in the room, River joined with small gas lamp hanging from his hand. Her clothes had dried partially, because of its many blond curls falling drops of ice water soaked his denim jacket and was not allowed to dry completely.

The orange light bulb played with the shadows of the room as River crossing to the door that connected the hall with the kitchen of the hut.

It was narrow and was adorned with the same tapestry of the previous room. Her huge shadow against the wall as she walked in silence and the floorboards creaked under her weight.

There were other doors in the hallway. River knew where it led, but did not bother to open it, she knew where she needed to go.

Down the corridor stood a dim orange light coming from a door ajar. River went straight to her, and before entering, she hit the old wooden surface three times with her pale knuckles, producing a noise strong enough for the person inside listen it.

"Enter" invited a sharp voice and slightly raspy, but still with a softness that she had seldom heard, like the surface of an object polished by time.

Holding the bulb with the right hand, and pushing the door with the palm of the left hand, River entered the room.

**000**

The door made no sound when opened. The warmth inside the small room was mixed with the cold environment of the corridor, producing a blast of hot air soft that hit full in the face and stir her wet curls around his head.

The light from the lamps hanging from the ceiling reaching to the farthest corners; seemed every utensil and furniture of the room was covered with gold dust.

The first thing that River observed was a bed in a corner of the room, a simple mattress on a wooden bed covered with some blankets and pillows. It was discarded, as if the person who used it would have cost him sleep.

Most of the lights that lit up the room came from the fire that crackled inside a small stone fireplace, built in the wall opposite the bed.

And sitting in a chair facing the window, were a woman.

River stood in the doorway, where neither firelight or lamps hanging from the ceiling could reach, feeling the strap backpack sinking deeper in the shoulder by its weight, and the tumult of innumerable questions in her head.

The light shined in the long silver hair of women, loose on his back and cascading over cobalt blue shirt he was wearing. River could hear the soft hum of the winch, her wrinkled bony hands were covered with a paste of brown color, while modeling something, according River could see, was the begining of a vase.

She had not seen her, her hair falling over her face and was so focused on the work she did, that she still did not realize the person that she had invited to spend.

The feeling of unease that had experienced when observing the collection of photographs in the kitchen did not compare to the feeling of despair that now stretched across every part of her body. She wish never to have been here, but at the same time a strange emotion prevented her turn around and run. River was a person who did not let herself be guided by emotions, keeping her vulnerable side controlled for the cold reason and logic. Now it seemed he was out of control for your system and not let her talk.

"Sam, if you want the keys to the shed, are on the ledge above the kitchen"

"That not is for I've come"

She was a grown woman, not the girl who had grown up in the clutches of the Silence. She could handle this perfectly.

She knew they were not the best words to greet a person who did not see ... How much? Centuries? Decades? But at least she had heard, and apparently, she recognized, or so he thought when he saw the slight start in the thin body of the woman.

The long silver hair stirred on his shoulders when he looked up sharply, and River was found with bright blue eyes in that face indescribable, who watched her with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.

"Hello Xhema"


End file.
